Two years ago, I filed for divorce. It was the end of an era, the end of my suffering, and the moment I finally accepted that things were not going to change. I am still not sure what feels worse: being dumped or being the one who walks away.

We were together for five years and married for three. But the truth is that no amount of time in the world can guarantee that you fully know someone. When we meet someone new, we present the best versions of ourselves. As time goes on, the flaws slip through the cracks, and it becomes our choice to accept the person fully as they are or walk away.

I did not walk away for years. Even when the rose colored glasses shattered, I held onto hope that things would get better. I chose to stay. We chose to get married and start a family. I invested so much of myself: my time, my love, my care. Walking away felt like admitting it was all for nothing. And everyone says relationships are hard work, right? Right?

No. That is terrible advice we are given far too young. I gave so much of myself that I lost myself in the process. I convinced myself that enduring the verbal, emotional, and mental abuse was somehow normal. I made excuses for his behavior because that was what I thought love required.

For a long time, I believed it was something we just had to work through. But one day, I woke up and said, you know what? I refuse to be the woman who stays for years hoping things will magically change, only to leave once the kids are grown.

Leaving was not just closing a chapter. It was finding myself again. And that is something I will never lose or let go of again.